Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(22)

Footsteps pounded down wooden steps across the vast space. Charity squinted through the darkness. A large shape hit the bottom step and moved in their direction. The soft light from the open bedroom door highlighted firm, broad features. The man was…large. Not tall so much—shorter than Devon—but massive. Huge barrel chest, tree-trunk arms, thick, solid legs. The man was power and strength in an imposing package.

“I see our guest is awake,” the newcomer said as he walked up, his voice masculine in a way Charity hadn’t realized a voice could be. The light fell across his features as he neared them. A wide nose adorned his square face, sporting scruff from a couple of days without shaving. His gaze zeroed in on Charity.

She registered his eye color. One pale blue, one faded green, like a beat-up dollar bill.

A memory jogged to the forefront of her brain. A wolf lunging at her. Barely missing. Crashing into the strange creature behind.

The numbness pulled away again, and this time, a thousand images flooded her. The way he moved. How he stood. Graceful death. “No. No!”

Electricity flooded her like she’d been hit by a snapped power line in a storm. Before she knew what she was doing, she surged forward and slammed her fist into the big man’s stomach. The air around her fist solidified then exploded outward, as if she’d physically shoved him. He flew backward, surprise lighting up his face.

Another memory started to surface, but Charity took off running. The itch in her chest blossomed out until it encompassed her whole body, giving her speed and power she’d wait until later to question. She rounded a rustic table and jumped onto the base of the stairs. Devon’s light steps followed directly behind her. Stronger and with longer legs, he was gaining.

She burst through the dense, heavy door at the top, the effort costing her precious seconds. A hand closed around her borrowed sweatpants, trying to yank her back. The snap buttons resisted for a moment, then popped open, the pants ripping away from her body like she was a basketball star about to take the court.

Devon stumbled and fell behind her, loud thuds against wood.

She burst into a living room. Ten or so people stopped what they were doing and turned her way. Puzzled expressions followed her senseless flight through another door and into a large kitchen. More shocked faces turned. Eyes dipped, surveying her lack of pants. Not stopping, she barreled through the far door and flung herself outside. The word “Help!” died on her lips.

She stumbled to a stop and her jaw went slack.

Devon’s solid body slammed into her from behind, knocking out her breath and taking her to the ground. She was rolled over and pinned. Devon stared down into her face.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, his breath ruffling her eyelashes.

“Where am I?” Panic threatened to overcome her. “What’s happening to me?”

She felt his pressure ease up as he shifted then stood. He reached down a hand. She ignored it, watching the gold filaments swirl around his fingers.

“Am I hallucinating?” she asked, tongue thick in her mouth. “Am I still hallucinating?”

Strong hands hooked under her arms and hauled her up. Devon steadied her, leaning in close. “You’ve really never been here?”

Blinking excessively, Charity shook her head slowly. “The sky is orange.” A tear leaked out of her eye, the first time she’d almost cried in four years. “This isn’t real. None of this is real…”

Small granules of gold drifted by like dust motes, swirling playfully in the soft breeze. The sky was a soft orange, horribly surreal yet strangely beautiful. In fact, everything around them had a surreal quality, like they stood within a children’s painting of Fairy Land. A cobblestone lane ran under her feet, leading away from the gigantic castle from which she’d emerged, a medieval behemoth with rough stone walls and arrow slits made for violent defense.

Devon’s intense gaze softened. “This is the Realm. We brought you here to ask some questions.”

She scrubbed at her chest, that crazy feeling of euphoria pulsing within her. She wanted to laugh so hard that she couldn’t speak. And then stab someone with a gilded knife.

“I think I’m going crazy,” she said in a wispy voice. Her legs wobbled.

Devon stepped closer and wrapped a solid arm around her waist, keeping her upright. “I thought I was hallucinating the first time I stepped through, too. But you get used to it.”

Small dwellings made out of clay, like rounded huts, with straw roofs dotted the lane opposite the formidable castle. Flowers decorated the front yards, many of which were encircled by white picket fences. Flourishing trees and bushes gave the folksy area a wooded feeling, closing the homes in with natural comfort and privacy.

She looked back at the huge medieval castle. “One of these things is not like the others…”

“C’mon,” Devon said. “Roger wants to talk to you. This may be your first time here, but we need answers for what happened in the Brink.”

“The Brink?” She resisted his tug urging her back to the castle.

“The human world. Non-magical.”

“Non…magical.” A laugh bubbled up as she noticed a person walking toward them. She blinked. Then wiped her eyes and blinked again. “Is that…”

“Don’t point!” Devon ripped her hand out of the air.